


Peter Nureyev and a Fear Conquered

by justpeace



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Space breakups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpeace/pseuds/justpeace
Summary: Peter Nureyev is not easily scared, but when his worst fears are realized he finds himself at a loss.





	Peter Nureyev and a Fear Conquered

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to think about Peter's side of the events after The Final Resting Place (spoilers for episodes through The Final Resting Place, also Rita Minute number 3).

Peter Nureyev is not easily scared. He rides the edge of fear often enough to have been dulled to the feeling. A small amount keeps him sharp on a job, of course, but it’s not useful to get carried away. Even when he was afraid of Miasma, and what she was capable of, he let the fear act as a powerful motivator for his escape. He likes to think it quickened his steps back to Juno.

If pressed, he has to admit he was most worried about losing Juno at that point in time. And even though Juno lived, even though Juno loves him, Juno still left. And Peter is left to cope with his fear realized.

After he wakes up alone, after he realizes Juno’s not coming back, Peter reminds himself why fear is unnecessary- once it is realized, the only thing left behind is pain. Peter hates feeling pain- in fact, has lived his life in an attempt to minimize that particular emotion. He feels like a fool as he leaves Mars, and curses himself for letting the planet under his skin like this.

At least he has some coping strategies. 

Peter travels to a little outer rim place he knows where they have rooms dedicated to human hormones and neurotransmitters; any feeling you need, they have it. It’s an excessive amount of credits considering the location (not what Peter would describe as charming or even decent), but Peter’s not one to concern himself with price. He spends two days subsuming himself in oxytocin and it takes the edge off. He tries not to wonder why it’s not working better (he feels great, but still somehow terrible), ignores the pain in his chest on the third day, and takes a call from a former client. Peter leaves on the fourth day for the job, hoping a nonsynthetic rush of adrenaline might help.

He’s left the museum with the piece in hand, seconds away from a perfect getaway, but a lady in a trenchcoat catches his eye. It’s not Juno, of course- what an absurd idea- but somehow his brain stops for one second and that’s all that’s needed. Even though he moves quickly, he gets shot in the leg. For a moment he feels the full wrath of the laser’s pain in his flesh and it feels both incredibly painful and oddly relieving, like it finally matches the pain he’s been trying to escape for the last week. He’d almost call it ironic, if he weren’t running for his life.

It’s survivable at least. And with the payment in hand, he sets himself up on a resort planet to recover. It’s likely he didn’t give himself enough time to recover the first time around-clearly he’s still a little hung up on...Mars, so he tries this time to be realistic about the injuries he’s nursing (a broken heart and a nicked artery). 

The pain in his leg heals, and the pain in his heart morphs to anger. Of course Juno left him; of course he couldn’t take it. Juno couldn’t take a single good thing for himself, especially not if it was given freely. Peter lets himself think about all the scenarios he imagined, all the wonderful futures he planned, and how Juno threw them away for his hellhole of a city. For fear. He sits with it for a few afternoons, watching the giant prized koi of the resort swimp lazy laps around their enclosure. Guests can ride on the koi, for an additional fee. Peter’s sure he’d pay several thousand creds to not be in the same water as a fish the size of a bus but he tries not to judge. He imagines telling Juno about his frustrations. He imagines Juno shouting back- about how Peter gave Juno no time to think, to decide anything for himself, no space to make an informed decision, and maybe that’s because Peter was scared that if he gave Juno a real choice he’d leave, goddamnit.

Peter doesn’t enjoy finding fault in his own actions but he teases the legitimate criticism out from the barbed comments and tries his best to acknowledge how he could have done better. Peter was under the impression that, having been through the worst together, he’d seen the worst of Juno (as Juno had certainly seen the worst of him). But he’s beginning to think Juno’s one of those ladies whose worst only comes out during the good times. Maybe Peter shouldn’t have expected to fix that with an interplanetary adventure, although he doesn’t fault himself for trying. It doesn’t change the fact that Juno made no attempt to talk about it, or indicate that anything was wrong. 

By the time Peter takes his next job, he feels...better. Not perfect, not back to his pre-Juno self (which annoys him), but better. He executes the theft of information from an Outer Rim crime boss cleanly, and doesn’t even have to burn his alias, which he takes as a sign things are improving.

A few jobs later, Peter finds himself back on Mars. He’s not particularly pleased about it, but it was an old acquaintance he’s loath to disappoint. And he’s come so far, after all- through the 4 ongoing circles of grief. He almost feels as though he could see Juno and not be devastated (not enough to test that theory). 

He does check in on Rita, though. She’s so pleasant, and kind, and it can’t be enough to have Juno take care of her, not when he can barely take care of himself. So of course Peter needs to do a spot of surveillance to see how she is. 

Bugging Rita’s comms tells Peter a lot-especially about the plot of a certain historical romance she’s been watching involving a fish person and a pirate. It also tells him that the impossible detective has had a rough time in the last few months, but maybe he’s getting better. Peter feels cautiously hopeful about this, and then pleased about feeling cautiously hopeful. 

He’s waiting for his real target to leave the bar, barely listening to his other surveillance, when he overhears Rita planning for Juno’s birthday. 

It’s been a while. When Peter thinks about Juno… he doesn’t feel fear, or pain, or anger, anymore. He’s sad, of course, that Juno decided he couldn’t leave. He’s not sure that will ever change. He regrets not giving Juno more choices, or space to think.

Peter’s sadness about Juno coexists with the understanding that somehow he still loves the lady. But he’s not afraid to lose Juno anymore- the worst happened, and he survived. He’ll be able to weather this if Juno leaves again, he thinks. Maybe less time in the oxytocin tanks and more time on a beach somewhere feeling out the edges of his misery, but at least he knows he’d survive. 

So Peter decides to make a small gesture, in honor of Juno’s birthday. Maybe if Juno still thinks about him he’ll understand, and maybe he’ll get better. If he doesn’t- perhaps that’s fine too. Peter has plenty of things to keep him occupied in the meantime. 


End file.
